El Dorado
by ncfan
Summary: Love is a dream that can never be found.


Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

In Amegakure, it is the moment before a storm. Angry gray clouds swirl over the horizon; thunder rumbles and crashes, the faint vibrations not enough to make the ground shake. The wind blows through the leaves of trees and makes the long grass bow.

"Do you think of him often?" Itachi knows that Konan has come to recognize the glazed expression of his eyes that indicates when he does not really see his surroundings.

Itachi wonders if it will rain or if the clouds are just a bluff with no real power behind them. He decides that it is most likely the former. It always is in Amegakure.

The tall, pale woman comes and stands beside him; she is achingly thin underneath her enveloping cloak, her eyes glassy and smooth, pale, lifeless marbles.

The wind blows through, and Itachi tries to find words to answer.

There is a road, somewhere, a road both have traveled once but long since lost, and that road can not be found again. Once one steps off of it, they have forsaken it forever.

Konan's pale blue eyes survey the landscape, not really seeing any of it at all. She is thinking to, of someone else she can not reach and can not draw away from the encroaching darkness, no matter how hard she tries. Konan, Itachi knows, is the epitome of grace under pressure.

Itachi's still searching for an answer when the rain hits. They are standing under a tree with reaching, enveloping branches and wide, flat leaves, so they are sheltered. It comes, soft and gentle in a way that he was not expecting, and a noticeable but not unbearable humidity rises out of the ground.

"Every day," he replies, tonelessly. His eyes clear of their shadows though the milkiness remains, and he blinks away his errant thoughts.

They retreat further under the shelter of the tree.

.

Thunder rumbles overhead, grumbling but not roaring. The rain continues to seep over the ground, soft and steady with a regular interval and a relentlessness belied by its mildness.

Konan does not know what time of day it is. The sky and the light resembles dusk without sunset, a deep, dull bluish gray, as clouds dominate the sky entirely. It reminds her of Yahiko, just as the time just before makes her think of Nagato, and what has been lost to the darkness.

It has been many hours since she last ate, but she is not hungry. She never is anymore, the process of eating just being something to nourish her body and keep herself from dying. If she dies, there will be no one left to look after Nagato; she does not trust the others to that task, for even the best-intentioned of them is too twisted to care for him without taking advantage in some way. Konan discounts that she herself is mired in darkness, even if manipulation has never been a facet of her psyche.

"Do you miss him?" she hears Itachi ask.

The wind rustles her flower; Konan lifts delicate hands to keep it steady.

She does not know what and who exactly he refers to. There are many people in Konan's life whom she misses; the sad-eyed child, the bright leader, the wise and eccentric mentor. There is no one whom she does not miss, and Konan often wonders why it must be this way.

Itachi is looking at her in a way that is composed and hidden; he does not betray his emotions on matters such as this. The question is meaningful though, meaningful for him.

Water is pooling in the indent of a green leaf. As her eyes watch it, Konan watches the water spill from the leaf. The process is started again, regardless of whether the leaf wishes it.

She wonders if Itachi is asking her or himself. She knows he does not sleep at night, that his ventures into the teeth of storms is a desperate, straining attempt to wipe away all the emotions that have ever hurt him. She, being made of paper, can not do this unless she wishes to see her colors warp and fade even more than they already have. There is no easy solution for either of them. They must simply watch and wait.

Between two thunder claps, Konan gives her answer, sitting on the jutting root with her legs clenched together and her hands folded in a way that bespeaks repression for more eloquently than her words and inhibited personality ever could.

"More than you can ever know."

Itachi looks down at her with opaque eyes, those eyes telling her that he knows far better than she can fathom.

.

The rain has stopped, revealing a deep steel blue sky marred by the lingering presence of rippling clouds like gray wool in a twilight sea. The ground squishes under their feet as they walk out from under the tree.

Konan steps out to the very ledge of the grassy cliff, her cloak fluttering behind her in a cloud of coarse linen, but Itachi stays behind, not trusting his eyes to guide him truthfully. If he looks close, Itachi almost thinks he can see the shapes of paper wings rustling beneath the linen shroud, causing a sea of black to ripple and embellished red clouds to warp.

The thunder has fled entirely, as if exhausted beyond recall to the point that it can not stand for even one evening. There is silence all around.

Something wild afflicts him, and Itachi's heart pounds. A dream hovers in front of his eyes, and then vanishes in his sight, just out of the reach of his grasping hand. It is how it has ever been.

Itachi stands, cold and alone in the darkness of night.

"Do you ever wish to see him?" Konan's ice blue eyes pierce into him, to the point that Itachi wonders if he even has to speak to let her know; she can discern any answer of his before he says it.

"He hates me," Itachi answers, straightening and imperceptibly folding his cloak more closely about him. The cold settles over his shoulders. "There is nothing more to say."

Somewhere, it is still raining.

* * *

It's a gloomy, rainy day where I am, and that provides the perfect ambiance for this oneshot.


End file.
